Indianapolis Times, Volume 41, Number 250, Indianapolis, Marion County, 27 February 1930 — Page 7

FEB. 27, 1930

MURDER BACKSTAIRS BY ANNE AUSTIN COPYRIGHT BY NEA SERVICE

BEGIN HERE TODAY DETECTIVE BONNIE DUNDEE, secretely a member of the Hamilton homicide squad, accepts an invitation from a former Yale classmate, DICK BERKELEY to spend the week-end at Hillcrest, the millionaire Berkeleys' estate. It is rumored that CLORINDA BERKELEY is engaged to be married to SEYMOUR CROSBY, New York guest, in the Berkeley home. For reasons of his own. Dundee has a strong professional curiosity to see and study Crosby. On Friday evening Dundee meets MR. and MRS. BERKELEY, the latter an Impossibly vulgar and pretentious woman; the beautiful daughter, CLORINDA 15-year-old OIGI. who annoys her mother with her frankness: gracious, well-bred Mrs. Letitia Lambert, Mrs. Berkeley's social secretary, formerly a society leader in New York and an old friend of Crosby's. Dinner is a rather dreadful ordeal, for Berkeley senior is angry over his daughter's engagement to Crosby, and Mrs. Berkeley is furious with her husband for having limited her consumption of champagne. Uneasily, Dundee feels that the evening has further ordeals in store for all concerned. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER THREE "RUN along, Gigi," Dick Berkeley commanded, slumping to the couch beside Dundee as Wickett was serving coffee in the drawing room. “You've probably handed Dundee so many shocks already that he's as groggy as I am. "Go cheer up Mrs. Lambert. She’s looking rather low and no wonder . . . Thanks, no coffee for me. Wickett. I don't want to take the edge off his jag I’m conscientiously acquiring,” and he appropriated two of the tiny glasses filled with a golden liquor.” "I’ll bet Mr. Dundee would rather I'd do the shocking that you!” Gigi retorted, thrusting out her tongue at her brother. But she obeyed, winging her way across the enormous, too gorgeous, too new room to where the social secretary sat quite alone. "Funny kid, Gigi.” Dick commented. "She's the best of the lot of course. Half-baked yet, and disgustingly frank, but heart of gold, and all that sort of thing. I like Gigi.” "So do I!” Dundee agreed cheerfully. his eyes taking in with pleasure the picture which the goldenbrown child and the beautiful white-haired woman made as they sat together in a distant windowseat. "This stuff is too damned sweet,” Dick decided suddenly. “Got to have something to take the taste out of my mouth.” And he plunged not too steadily, toward the dining room. As he was returning his father intercepted him, saying something sternly emphatic in a low- voice. Then the older man strode determinedly into the dining room. "Poor Dad! He has a hard time trying to keep the inebriates of this family from making holy shows of themselves,” Dick told Dundee, as he slumped again upon the couch "But in case you’re feeling dry. old man, I had the happy thought of filling my pocket flask on that trip.” "Thanks. I've had more than enough,” Dundee replied absently. He was wondering just how many

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"inebriates” the Berkeley family was cursed with, and just who they were. “Rather Sir Galahadish. aren't you?” young Berkeley almost sneered. “So is Dad. He unlocks his pre-war cellar only when Mother browbeats him into it, to celebrate some such auspicious occasion as this. “Happy-looking love-birds, aren't they?” and his sneer was unmistakable as his glance brooded upon his sister Clorinda and Seymour Crosby, who sat silently in an atrocious love-seat, each handsome face somber with brooding. “God! I’ve got to do something to liven up this party!” # # # A MINUTE later Dick's halfblind fumbling with the dials of an enormous radio cabinet released a flood of jazz music. “Come on, Lily!” he shouted to his aunt, “Let’s show these corpses how to do the “Breakaway”! Break away! Get hot and break away!” “Dance with me, Mr. Dundee?” Gigi cried at the top of her voice, as she slithered across the floor. “Dad. you make Tish dance! . . . Come on!” she challenged Dundee and he willingly held out his arms. Three other couples obeyed the compelling syncopation. Dick harangued and scolded his giggling aunt; Clorinda and Crosby, their steps matching perfectly, proved that dancing was a fine art; and Mr. Berkeley guided the slender, gracious figure of Mrs. Lambert with surprising expertness. “Don't they look simply too marvelous together?” Gigi whispered after she had blown a kiss to her adored “Tish.” “Look at poor Abbie grinning like a Chessy cat. Oh, dear! Can’t someone invent anew smile for that? Any way, she thinks the party’s going swell at last, and she’s happy.” “Shall I ask her to dance?” Dundee smiled down into the vivid brown face with its topaz eyes and babyishly-round white teeth. “Ask her of course. She’ll be pleased, but she’ll make an excuse. The bitter truth is that poor Abbie has arthritic knees that creak so loudly they drown out the music . . . Whew! You’re a wow of a dancer. Bonnie Dundee!” “So you’ve found out my nickname,” Dundee groaned. “I suppose Dick let the cat out of the

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bag, to use another mossy simile?” “And I thought I was so clever —thinking that up all by myself!” Gigi mourned. “I’ve been trying to quote that Bums poem ever since I met you, though it’s about a river, not a man, isn’t it? “But you are ‘Bonnie’ —Oh, tha-a-a-t’s all!” she mocked the tootle of the saxophone disgustedly. Dundee chivalrously was devoting himself to his hostess during the lull in the music when Seymour Crosby joined them, apologizing for the interruption with a jerky little continental bow. “I’ve just remembered that I have a present for you, Mrs. Berkeley, and since I'm rather keen to see how you like it, will you pardon me while I run upstairs to get it?” Mrs. Berkeley watched him leave the room, a pleased simper on her broad, over-rouged face. “Isn’t he the most perfect expression of a dying era, Mr. Dundee?” she gushed. “So suave, so-so gentle, so polished, if you know what I mean! “Darling Clorinda is a very lucky girl Aren’t you. Clorinda?” she called teasingly, but her daughter either did not hear or did not want to answer, for the tall, splendid beauty continued her restless, almost feline prowling about the room. # # # DUNDEE murmured a polite answer, and his hostess’ caroling voice gushed on. “I do hope my bad little Gigi hasn’t given you a false impression of me, dear Mr. Dundee. The child is incorrigible, and her father aids and abets her in all her impertinences. But she's a dear little thing at heart —really adores me. “Dear Mrs. Lambert assures me that Gigi will be a great success socially. Of course she will make her debut in New York, sponsored by the Seymour Crosby’s, though I am afraid Gigi is still not properly im-

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pressed with what her dear sister will be able to do for her—“Oh, you dear man!” she broke off to exclaim, with a cry of delight as Seymour Crosby again presented himself before her. “What is it?” Gigi shouted, taking long, skating steps across the highly polished floor. But when her own eyes had answered her question, Dundee was amazed to see them widen with something remarkably like horror. “Oh, no!” she cried, then, with a queer side glance toward Mrs. Lambert she clapped a hand upon her mouth. There was certainly nothing in the exquisite cut-crystal flask which Mrs. Berkeley was seizing with curious avidity to inspire horror in the child, Dundee thought, his brows knitting in a puzzled frown. “Let me smell!” Gigi demanded shrilly, snatching the heavy crystal bottle from her mother’s hands even as they tightened convulsively upon it. Before any one could stop her, Gigi had poured the overpoweringly strong perfume into her cupped hands and was dashing wildly from person to person, sprinkling dinner coats and evening frocks with terrible prodigality. “Stop Gigi! Stop, I tell you!” Mrs. Berkeley commanded frantically. ‘‘Do you realize what you’re doing? That’s Fleur d’Amour, and it costs $32 an ounce! George! Stop her! She’ll waste it all!” But the mad outpouring continued. Even Wickett, the butler, did

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not escape a dash of the costly scent. "You’ve wasted at least an ounce of my lovely perfume, you wicked child’” Mrs. Berkeley sobbed, as she panted after the flying Gigi. # # # WHAT happened in the next minute Bonnie Dundee would have given much not to have witnessed. and. later, a great deal more to have been able to forget. For Mrs. Berkeley, cornered her younger daughter, and, even as Gigi laughed impudently up into her mother’s rage-reddened face, lifted a broad hand and slapped her cheek resoundingly. “Oh!” Gigi gasped Incredulously. And she made no resistance when her mother snatched the crystal flask from her suddenly relaxed little hand, before it could drop and shatter. Then she looked at her mother. and Dundee thought he had never seen such contemptuous hatred as paled the puckish little brown face and distended the no-longer childish eyes. In another moment George Berkeley was at his wife’s side, and he was saying in a low voice of concentrated fury, that was perfectly audible in the hushed room: “Don’t do that again, Abbie! Never again, do you hear me?— or—” At that moment the recuperated orchestra, miles away, broke into “The Pagan Love Song,” and the room was filled with languorous melody, superimposed upon quiver-

ing waves of anger, fear and hatred. As the paralysis lifted, Dundee, still dazed, still seeing red. was aware that Dick Berkeley was lunging drunkenly toward the widearched doorway that led into the front hall. Gigi. who had been cornered near the doorway, backed blindly a few steps, then turned and ran. her rasping sobs loud above the music. Uncertainly, Dundee glanced about saw the still white misery in Mrs. Lambert's delicate face, the con-

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temptuous shrug with which Clorinda was trying to dismiss the incident, and the shocked amazement and disgust on the aristocratic face of Seymour Crosby. “Will you excuse me a moment? I wish to speak to Dick,” Dundee mumbled to George Berkeley, who gave no sign that he heard. It was no desire to speak to Dick Berkeley, however, which took Dundee out of the room. It was an urgent Impulse to telephone Captain

Strawn of the Hamilton homicide squad. (To Be Continued)

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